


In Return

by TheEnchantedQuill



Series: "What will you give me in return?" [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Forced Orgasm, Forced Pregnancy, M/M, Mech Preg (Transformers), Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Overloads (Transformers), Valve Oral (Transformers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEnchantedQuill/pseuds/TheEnchantedQuill
Summary: This is a potential outcome to an old oneshot that was left up to interpretation.In exchange for Optimus' life, Ratchet carries Megatron's sparkling.
Relationships: Megatron/Ratchet, Optimus Prime/Ratchet
Series: "What will you give me in return?" [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699984
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	In Return

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you read the tags before you got here. Please click away if this is something that'll trigger/upset you. 
> 
> Read the oneshot prior to this for context!!!
> 
> This was requested on my Tumblr! You can reach me there at AromanticAutobot to request fics, oneshots, prompts, and other possible scenarios for this prompt.

“If. . .” Ratchet swallowed, his voice giving out and failing to a pathetic whimper. “If I do this, you’ll let Optimus live?”

Megatron’s servos were roaming his waist and hips, running down his sides while he spoke. He didn’t dare meet the warlord’s gleaming optics, he didn’t want to see that satisfied smirk of his. “If you demonstrate complete obedience, you will have my word, Doctor.” The answer was a low rumble of a purr.  _ For all that’s worth.  _ “Besides. . .” Ratchet jolted as his aft received a condescending slap. “I want him alive for this. I could do this to you with or without your cooperation,  _ very easily. _ But I like it more this way. I want Optimus to know that this is happening to you because of  _ him  _ and his closeness to you. Watching his precious little lapdog in my hold is a greater punishment than death.”

“You won’t hurt him, will you?” It was hard not to cringe away from the touches invading his plating, to stand still and let it happen.

“My Pet, this will hurt him more than anything I could do to him.” Megatron’s servos traveled to rest over Ratchet’s stomach. “Tell me, did you fantasize about having sparklings with him? Did you imagine creating a family once the war was over?”

_ Damn you. _ “Yes.”

“Did you pick out names?”

“Yes.” 

Another rumble in Megatron’s chest. “You’ll have to share them with me.” He stroked Ratchet’s middle, and Ratchet turned his helm away so he didn’t have to watch. “I am going to thoroughly enjoy taking this from you and Optimus.” A couple tears rolled down Ratchet’s cheeks. “Unfortunately, I haven’t the time to put a sparkling in you right now. I have other important tasks to get to, but don’t worry, Sweet Pet, I will be back for you soon.”

A moment of silence passed, and annoyance pulsed in Megatron’s field. He took Ratchet’s chin in a clawed servo and brought their gazes to meet. The trembling medic swallowed again, whispering submissively, “Yes, Master.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ratchet was taken to a sectioned off portion of the medbay, where Optimus could be cared for but contained. He had begged to be allowed to see his leader and assist in stabilizing him, and he was surprised to find that Megatron complied to his request without a moment of thought. 

Optimus was stable. He was badly scarred, but he was patched up, his bleeding halted and his lost energon restored. Megatron promised a voicebox replacement.  _ “I want to hear you begging while I take everything away from you,”  _ he had said. 

It was comforting to find that Optimus was awake and alert when Ratchet entered the chamber, teary eyed and shaking like a leaf. The Prime met his mate’s optics; he knew he couldn’t rise and embrace his medic, but he tried the restraints anyway, his spark melting at the sight of Ratchet being so distraught. “Optimus,” Ratchet moved to stand beside the slanted slab, taking his leader’s servo in his. “I. . . Primus, I don’t know what to say. . .” He covered his mouth to stifle a sob. Optimus squeezed his servo to get his attention. With his voicebox destroyed, a gaping hole in his throat, he felt miserably frustrated that he couldn’t speak to his weeping medic. He mouthed, slowly and as clearly as he could, ‘ _ What is he making you do?’  _

Ratchet didn’t want to tell him. He averted his optics, trembling so violently that his plating rattled. “He. . . He’ll let you live if. . .” Sucking in a breath, he forced his voice to cooperate. “I’m going to carry his sparkling.”

He felt Optimus’ servo go stiff, and an overwhelming flood of anger exploded in his field. Ratchet flinched as the fury brushed him, the emotion alien in his Prime's normally calm field. Optimus squeezed his servo again, stroking it with his thumb lovingly. They looked at each other, sad faces all around, the anger repressed and replaced by sympathy, wrapping around Ratchet like an affectionate blanket. 

“I love you so much, Optimus.” Ratchet reached forward and cupped his cheek. “I’ll do anything for you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I am proud to be your mate.” 

_ ‘I love you too.’ _

Bending over to hover above Optimus, Ratchet placed a gentle kiss on his forehelm, and at the Prime’s withdrawal and nod, he lowered to capture his lips. This could be the last time they would get a moment like this in quite some time, Ratchet noted with a pang of hurt. The kiss was slow and loving, and for a moment, they could pretend to be anywhere else than this Hell. It was hard for them to part.

Ratchet sat beside the slab, holding his mate’s servo, burying his face into his mate’s strong shoulder. 

They stayed like that for some time, until the barred door clanged open, a tall shadow falling across the floor. 

_ No.  _ Ratchet hesitated before looking up, afraid to meet the red optics that were now locked on him. The fury returned to Optimus’ field in a split second, and this time, Ratchet didn’t shy away, but nestled into it like it could protect him.

“How touching. I am horribly apologetic that I must end such a tender moment.” Megatron’s voice seemed lower than usual, his tone darker, more sinister, and. . . husky. It sent a shiver down Ratchet’s backstrut. “But I made time in my busy schedule for you, my Sweet Pet.” He extended a servo, palm facing up, beckoning to his prisoner. Optimus squeezed Ratchet’s servo tightly and shook his helm, but his medic pulled away.  _ Complete obedience. _ He reminded himself, forcing his legs to take him to his captor. His chin was taken in sharp talons, and a pair of scarred lips claimed his own.  _ This is for Optimus,  _ He told himself.  _ This is worth it for Optimus.  _ He obediently opened his mouth when Megatron’s glossa teased him, letting the tyrant explore and dominate. 

Servos mapped out his hips, aft and thighs, grabbing and squeezing possessively. For a moment, Ratchet was reminded of how grabby Optimus always was in the berth, and he wished  _ so badly  _ that it was Optimus touching him. His frame went rigid when claws cupped his closed panel. 

“Open for your master.” 

“Wh- Here?” Ratchet pulled away and stepped back. “We aren’t going somewhere else?” 

Megatron licked his lips. “Don’t be nervous, Pet.” He rumbled, taking a step towards the panicked medic. “I won’t hurt you, on the contrary, you’ll be begging for more.” His smirk made Ratchet  _ sick.  _ “Rest assured, I will  _ pleasure  _ you, Medic.” His optics flickered when Ratchet backed away again. 

“Not here.” The medic’s optics dropped, bowing his helm and curling in a little in a show of submission. “Please.” 

The warlord moved quickly, taking his wrists and backing him up to a table, easily lifting him despite his struggling. 

“N-No, please, Megatron  _ please,  _ not in front of Optimus,” Ratchet was begging as he was sat on the edge of the table, Megatron pushing himself in between his knees. “Stop, stop, please not in front of him  _ please!”  _ He pushed and kicked timidly as Megatron trapped his wrists above his helm in one servo.

“Now, Pet, you wouldn’t want to exclude him. He’s a part of this too, you’re doing it for him, aren’t you? Don’t be so inconsiderate.” Pointed denta were grazing his neck cables, a deft glossa teasing bite marks that were left behind. “Why shouldn’t he be present for the conception of his mate’s child?”

“ _ Please,” _ Ratchet sobbed. "I. . . I don't want him to see. . ."

“Spread your legs wider. . . That’s it. . . Now open your panel.” His wrists were released, so that both clawed servos could push his legs apart and rub his thighs. “So pretty. . . My pretty little bearer. . .”

Ratchet’s panel slid open, exposing his array to Megatron’s cruel servos. He gripped the edge of the table enough to leave dents, his hands trembling. His cheeks were aflame, bright blue under his tears, shame and humiliation and fear whipping through his field. He hoped Megatron would be careful, he was completely dry and with Megatron’s size, this could be a very painful interface. 

He would’ve preferred the pain to what the tyrant did.

“Be good, Pet, be still for your master.” Megatron lowered to one knee in between his legs, bringing his helm level with Ratchet’s exposed array. Ratchet’s optics widened, and he whimpered at the sensation of Megatron staring at what was supposed to be private. Two thumbs brushed the folds of his valve and spread them wide. 

“What are you- ngh, oh-!” 

Megatron’s lips closed around the nub of sensors crowning the outer node of his valve, suckling gently for a moment before his glossa emerged and stroked it wetly. Pulses of pleasure resonated through Ratchet’s array, his valve’s functions springing to life at the stimulus. He turned his helm away, ashamed at the small explosions of pleasure rippling through him as Megatron sucked and licked him where he was sensitive. 

“No. . . please, stop. . .” Ratchet whined. This was supposed to hurt. This wasn’t supposed to feel good. This wasn’t supposed to feel. . . like it was Optimus doing it. Tender, gentle touches, a teasing glossa, wet lips kissing so sweetly. . . "Wait, please, not that. . NNnnh. . ."Ratchet’s frame was betraying him, he wasn’t supposed to enjoy this. He didn't want to enjoy it. “No- AH!”

Megatron’s glossa slipped into his opening, his lips rubbing along it’s rim as he teased the inner walls, tracing and mapping the inside of his valve. 

Lubricant was beginning to make Ratchet slick. Strangled moans were leaving him, low sounds of pleasure forced from deep inside his chest.

He felt  _ disgusting.  _

He couldn’t look over at Optimus, who he hoped wasn’t watching. 

This wasn’t what he expected. He expected to be pinned down and ravaged and  _ hurt.  _ Instead, he was being stroked and pleasured and  _ oh Primus  _ why was Megatron doing this?

This was torture. 

This was worth it to save Optimus.

  
  
  
  
  


Optimus laid back on the slab, trying to calm his breathing.

He was  _ livid.  _

Ratchet didn’t want him to see, and so he didn’t. He squeezed his optics shut, and just listened as his medic sobbed and begged as he was taken. Optimus wished he could disable his audials, the creaking of the table and Ratchet's cries were too much for him to cope. 

How  _ dare _ Megatron?

Why was he doing this?

Optimus couldn’t remember the last time he felt this angry. His servos were trembling, the restraints groaning under the strain. Megatron had no right to do this to his mate. He had no right to Ratchet’s body. Why wasn’t he torturing Optimus? Why wasn’t he whipping him, electrocuting him, cutting him, why did he have to hurt  _ Ratchet _ ? This wasn't fair. Ratchet didn't deserve this-  _ nobody  _ deserved this.

What was Optimus going to do when Ratchet had Megatron’s sparkling?

Already, he felt a sickening wave of despise towards the unborn creation. The product of Ratchet’s agony. A child born of this nightmare, of Ratchet's tears and pleas for mercy. Optimus didn’t want this sparkling, Ratchet didn’t want this sparkling, they just wanted  _ each other  _ damn it! How dare Megatron invite himself to torture their relationship?

He tried to focus on  _ anything _ but Ratchet’s broken moans and the table creaking loudly as Megatron pounded into him. 

It was the only thing he could hear. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Good news, Lord Megatron.” Ratchet didn’t appreciate how cheery Knockout was as he flounced over, waving a datapad. “He’s sparked up and ready to go.” 

“Excellent, Knockout.” Megatron's field was tucked around Ratchet posessively; it was a suffocating blanket of cruel satisfaction. “Isn’t that wonderful, Pet?”

“Yes, Master.” The medic murmured submissively. 

“Perhaps now we’ll retreat to my quarters, a celebration is in order,” he was pulled against his captor’s body, his aft and legs being fondled cruelly. He had by now learned that if he responded positively to the assaults and groping, Megatron spent less time trying to please him. Megatron worked very hard to draw noises of pleasure from him, signaling that he was enjoying it, despite his lack of consent. If he gave in and made enough appreciative noises, Megatron would be satisfied and they'd be done quicker. And so, he moaned as if he enjoyed the awful touches, hating the fact that Knockout was watching them. “Would you like that, my sweet little whore?”

“Yes, Master.”  _ No, that is the opposite of what I want. _

The past three weeks had been torture. He had spent them in Megatron’s berth, submitting himself to the warlord like an  _ obedient little pet. _

He was miserable.

He felt violated, broken, abused. . .

_ Anything for Optimus. _

Instead of going to Megatron's quarters, they went to the brig, where Optimus was kept. With the combined efforts of Ratchet and the Decepticon medical care, Optimus made a rapid recovery. A voicebox was ripped from a vehicon’s throat to replace his missing one. Megatron liked it when Optimus consoled Ratchet after their sessions to his full ability, and so he had been left unbound in his cell. 

"We have wonderful news, Prime." Megatron announced as they entered the cell, a possessive arm draped around Ratchet. Optimus rose to his pedes as the door closed behind them. "Tell your mate, Pet."

Ratchet couldn't meet Optimus' optics, his voice shaking as he whispered, "I'm carrying."

"Isn't that  _ exciting _ ?" Megatron's laugh was sickening as it echoed through the cell. "The first sparkling since Cybertron went dark. You should be so  _ honored  _ that your mate is the first mech to carry since the war."

Optimus didn't answer. His servos clenched and unclenched to let out some of his anger. He wouldn't react and give Megatron the satisfaction. 

"I think a celebration is in order, don't you? I have something special just for  _ you _ , Optimus. A gift for my favorite Prime.” Lowering his arm to pinch Ratchet’s aft, Megatron regarded his prisoner gleefully. “Don’t you think Optimus deserves to take part in our celebration?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Go to your mate, my whore.” 

_ Ugh.  _ Ratchet _ hated  _ it when Megatron called him a whore. ‘Pet’ was humiliating enough. Swallowing his pride, he obediently approached Optimus, looking up to meet his optics. Strong, loving servos took his waist and he was pulled into a brief embrace. He didn’t care that Megatron was watching, he just wanted to be held. He buried his face into Optimus’ chest, whimpering. 

“How sweet. . . I understand that I’ve taken your mate away from you, Optimus. I imagine that it’s hard for you. So, in all my generosity,” Megatron was drawling. “Since it’s a  _ special  _ occasion, I will let you have him.”

Optimus regarded the tyrant with cold optics. “What are you getting at, Megatron?”

“Ratchet is going to service you.” The reply was simple, as if it wasn’t at all personal.

Anger whipped through Optimus’ field; he held his mate tighter when he felt a tremor in his plating. “No, he isn’t. I am not taking part in your games.” His voice lowered to a growl. Ratchet clung to him like his life depended on it. 

“Ratchet.” Megatron crooned to his medic, as if Optimus wasn’t even there anymore. “You’ll use your mouth for this.” 

“Absolutely not!” 

“ _ Ratchet. _ ”

“Yes, Master. . .”

Optimus’ mate pushed back, ending the embrace and looking up at him. “Don’t,” the Prime whispered, almost pleadingly. 

Sucking in a deep breath before he spoke, Ratchet murmured gently to him, “I can’t live without you, I love you,  _ please,  _ let me do this for you.” He wiped tears from his optics. Optimus didn’t answer, only averted his gaze before closing his optics. He shivered as Ratchet’s expert servos ghosted over his panel, teasing the seams with careful fingers. “Will you open?” The medic whispered softly, pressing a soft kiss to the closed armor. Optimus opened his optics to find Ratchet on his knees before him, nibbling softly on the seams. Hesitating, the Prime let his cover slide off. This wasn’t arousing in the slightest to him, he preferred consensual partners, and thus his spike was soft. Ratchet wasn’t hindered by it, he just tenderly ran his glossa along it’s underside, moving up to the tip, so he could tease the slit. 

“He has a very talented mouth.” Megatron purred. “But of course, you knew that.”

Optimus ignored him, focusing on Ratchet taking his head into his mouth, suckling lightly. His spike was beginning to harden, stiffening between Ratchet’s soft lips. It didn’t take very long for Ratchet to have his member tall and erect; he knew what Optimus liked. He easily took the length in his mouth, moving up and down the member in smooth slides. It was hard not to moan as Ratchet took him deep into his throat, the tight passage flexing around him. “P-Primus,” Optimus choked out quietly. 

“He would have made a fine pleasure bot. Well, I suppose he is now.”  _ Why can’t Megatron just shut up?  _ “This is what he’s good for, Prime. Don’t forget that.”

It only took a few minutes for Ratchet to coax an overload out of Optimus, swallowing his spike and taking the transfluid down his throat. He withdrew when his mate was done, wiping his mouth. 

Optimus lowered to his knees and took Ratchet into his arms again. Ratchet leaned into him, venting and hiding his face as Megatron laughed.

“Such a well behaved little whore-bot. Perhaps when I’m done with him, I’ll hand him over to the vehicons, they certainly get restless. They’d love having a talented bot like Ratchet to overload in whenever they please.”

A soft sob left Ratchet. “Deep breath, Old Friend, breathe, I’ve got you.” Optimus glared at Megatron furiously. "Leave us. You've done enough." 

Another rumble of a cruel laugh. "Yes, of course. I'll give the two of you some time. But Ratchet," fiery red optics narrowed, "I expect you back in my berth shortly." The door shut behind him.

Anger was pulsing in Optimus’ field, but he held it at bay. Anger wasn’t going to help his weeping mate. Honestly, he didn’t know how to help. He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing he could do to stop Megatron, and he felt so helpless because of it. And now, he had contributed to the cruelty. He could've stopped Ratchet from performing oral, if he really tried. Megatron couldn't blame Ratchet if Optimus was resistant. In the moment, he panicked when Ratchet had begged him. But if he had held strong, maybe he wouldn't have had to participate in Ratchet's degradation. Some leader he was. Some  _ mate  _ he was. “I’m so sorry.” Optimus’ optics closed, and tears of his own ran down his cheeks. 

This was  _ his  _ fault. He lost a battle with Megatron, and Ratchet dove in to save him. He put them into this mess.

All those times when he could have killed Megatron in the past, all those times that he was too  _ soft  _ and  _ forgiving. _ . .

He wanted to rip out Megatron’s spark more than anything right now.

He cursed his younger self for being so naive. Megatron was a monster and he deserved to be slaughtered like one. 

“What the frag is that?” Optimus snapped out of his thoughts to follow his mate’s gaze. He grimaced.

Megatron had a picture printed and hung on the wall of Optimus’ cell. It was enlarged to the size of a billboard, a bold contrast to the dark greys of the cell. It was a rather sensual image of Ratchet on his knees before Megatron, servicing him with his mouth, just as he had done for Optimus minutes ago.

It was a very cruel taunt. The purpose of their sessions was to get Ratchet sparked, but here Megatron was, taking pleasure for himself because  _ Ratchet's feelings didn't matter to him. _

“I hate him, I hate him so much.” Ratchet covered his face. “How long has that been there?”

“A day.” Venting, Optimus rotated their frames so Ratchet couldn’t see the the picture. 

“At least it’s nothing you’ve never seen.” His mate wiped his tears away, inhaling, regaining some of his composure. “Why does he have to  _ humiliate  _ me every step of the way, isn’t the fact that I’m doing this enough?”

“You’re so strong, my love.” 

Ratchet pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Anything for you, Optimus. I love you.” He looked down at his chest, where the spark of the child would form, venting sadly. “I hope it doesn’t look like him.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I always hoped that our sparkling would have your optics. Big and round, like Orion Pax’s.” A smile ghosted over his lips. “We would make one cute sparkling.”

“Only because of how gorgeous you are.” Optimus rumbled, reaching forward to rest a servo over Ratchet’s stomach. 

“Have you seen yourself?” Ratchet blushed, in a  _ good  _ way, for the first time in weeks. Optimus’ spark melted, burning his circuits. 

A fire seemed to ignite in his chest, a protective urge swelling up inside him. “Ratchet, I’m going to get you out of here. We are going to escape this nightmare, and I will get you as far away from him as possible.” His proclamation came out of the blue for his medic, who sent him a surprised look. “We will decide if this sparkling shall be kept. Megatron won’t have a say. You will be free to decide if you want this creation or not. And then, we could do this  _ right.  _ It will be  _ my  _ sparkling, not his.” This was a bold statement, considering that he had no means of breaking them out of there anytime soon, if at all. It wasn’t a realistic promise to make. 

His mate didn’t seem to care about that. “Alright then, Optimus.” He smiled, for real this time, tears welling up in his optics once again. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

  
  
  


Time went on. Megatron’s cruelty didn’t falter in the slightest, if anything, it increased. He was excited when the signs of Ratchet’s condition started showing, and had become a peacock of sorts, flaunting the medic proudly.

Optimus grew more and more watchful for an opening.

Primus granted him what he had patiently waited for.

A careless guard, Megatron’s absence, and a cloaking device easily accessible from the brig. 

Their freedom was in sight. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The Autobot base had become an obnoxious place to be. 

Two little troublemakers were crashing through the hallways, running full speed on short legs, barreling into anyone who stumbled into their path. Shrill squeals of excitement overrode the usual quiet of the silo, echoing through every hallway and every room. Ratchet cringed, his little femling screeching loudly as she tripped and faceplanted. “Be careful, you two! You’re going to hurt yourselves.” He chastised from his seat on a workbench.

The femling looked at him, her dark red optics sparkling. “Sorry, Carrier!” She scrambled back up, her little grey wings fluttering in excitement as she tore off again. 

Trailing was a little mechling, his blue optics big and round with energy. He toddled after her as fast as he could- which was fast for a sparkling his age- squealing and calling out to her as they disappeared into the hallway again

There was a moment of silence in the main hangar, and Ratchet thought that it was suspiciously quiet, and that he needed to check on his children. His concerns subsided when Optimus strode into the room, the femling on his shoulders, and the mechling on his hip. 

“We have lots of energy today.” The Prime smiled at his mate. “How are you holding up?”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger.” 

“Sire, can I come on a mission with you?” The femling asked from her perch on Optimus’ shoulders. She poked his audial fin.

“Unfortunately, you cannot,” the large mech rumbled, smiling, “Because I have an important job for you.”

“What is it?” 

“I think I saw a big, mean predacon hiding in the energon storage room. I would handle it, but I’m too scared. Will you catch it for me?” Ratchet swooned as Optimus lowered the little femme to the ground, his deep voice soft and sweet for the children, his optics sparkling lovingly. 

“Yes, Sire! I’ll catch it!”

“Be careful, Little One. Protect your little brother.”

“I will!” The two raced off again, nearly running over Bumblebee as they dashed for the supply closet.

“You’re so wonderful.” Ratchet rose to his pedes, beaming proudly. 

“Anything for my stunning mate and. . .  _ Lively _ children.” Optimus approached him, pressing a soft kiss to him.

“She absolutely adores you.” His mate murmured when their lips parted. “You’ve done so well for her, you make her so happy.”

“I adore her as well. She is going to grow into quite the femme one day.”

Optimus admittedly faced a difficult confliction of emotions when his mate decided to keep Megatron's sparkling. His support for his mate did not waver in the slightest, but he dreaded the birth, dreaded seeing evidence of what happened to Ratchet every day. 

But when the little femling came out, and was bundled up and placed in his arms, the resentment he thought he'd feel crumbled to ash. He watched Ratchet hold his sparkling for the first time, joyful tears streaming down his cheeks as he rested the femling against his chest. It was hard to be unhappy when his mate looked like that.

The femling loved Optimus from the day she was born. 

At the sight of him, she'd giggle and thrash in her blankets, and once she could control her limbs, she'd reach out to him, squealing for his attention. As soon as she started walking, she was always at his heels, running to him when he came home, holding onto his pede while he dragged her around playfully. 

Optimus loved her. 

His doubts were gone. This was  _ his  _ daughter, not Megatron's. Megatron gave up the right to call this sparkling his when he forced Ratchet to interface with him. 

Some of the other Autobots expressed concern when Ratchet became sparked with Optimus' son. They wondered if Optimus could love his femling as much as his blood child. 

He never had a problem with favorites.

They were both his children, and they were his entire world. He was proud to be the sire of two bright, energetic, happy sparklings. 

The distant shouts of those sparklings, screaming and laughing in the energon supply closet, drew his attention back to his place in the present. His mate leaned against him, smiling as they listened to the blissful chaos.

Optimus had kept his promise. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have your own idea of how you wanted the original oneshot to end, reach out to me! If I approve, I will add to the series!


End file.
